


Gravity

by Cassiopeia12727



Series: Magnets [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, MSR, POV Dana Scully, POV Fox Mulder, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22569610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassiopeia12727/pseuds/Cassiopeia12727
Summary: In this sequel to my first fan fic on here ("Magnets"), Scully tries to cope with being separated from Mulder, not knowing if they will ever work together again. This is still fluffy, although it has more than just monologue this time.
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: Magnets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624411
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Context: I liked the dual meaning of "gravity" as a natural force as well as the severity of a situation, the weight of it.  
> Disclaimer: Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions own The X-Files and all associated characters. I don't own any of the characters mentioned in this story or episodes and movies referenced in it.

It's been a month that I've moved to Dallas, and I still cannot believe that I have been separated from my Mulder, my soulmate, again, possibly for good. Running myself a warm bath, I am reminiscing about our journey together.

Not too long ago, we shouted confessions for our dedication to the X-files and each other only for Mulder to tell me a few weeks later that there was no way around it this time. The X-Files were closed again, possibly for good. I know that he fought back hard, but to no avail. As I have taught herself to do in times like these, I chose to approach things from a rational point of view and told myself that my return to being a forensic pathologist was a much better career move and something that I would not be as emotionally invested in as helping Mulder fight his lifelong battle. Working as a criminal profiler on cases that have no ties to the paranormal will probably do Mulder some good. He looked so tired and exhausted the last time I saw him in Washington, DC, just a few days before I had to pack my things to move to Dallas. I am a fighter, I am strong, I can bark orders, and I can kick doors in like it's no one's business, but I am not a rock, and when I see Mulder crumble, it breaks me. I tried to make the farewell and transition as quick and painless as possible. No last get-together, no calls from my new apartment to let him know that I was okay, and no regular check-ins. I did what I always do when something is occupying my mind in an unhealthy way: I fully immersed myself in my work.

I wasn't sure what to expect at my new location, although I had been to Dallas for work a few times. One of my trips, our trips, had taken my to a small town with people who were drawn to vampire lore and committed crimes in the same vain as the fictional bloodsuckers. Despite this being yet another X-File that could not be closed due to conflicting reports and and nonexistent evidence, I have very fond memories of our trip to Chaney. The thought of his corny jokes brings an involuntary smile to my face. Of course, I miss Mulder, the one constant in my life over the past 5 or so years, but I can't give in to those feelings of regret. Every memory of Mulder is bittersweet. On the one hand, thoughts of him give rise to a swarm of butterflies in my stomach, on the other hand, the pain of the prospect of never seeing him regularly again is like a dagger to my heart. Most of the regret comes from my never opening up to him about my romantic feelings. I had come so close to doing so when reciprocating his affectionate advances in the hallway outside Mulder’s apartment before I was stung by a bee, “THE bee”, as I call it in my mind. We had shouted confessions about how much we really needed each other. Our need for the other to stay unbearable, the whole dam had come down had collapsed, torrents of pent-up emotions pouring out, culminating to that fateful moment when our lips were so close to meeting but never did.

From the day that I was assigned to the X-Files, I knew that it was going to be a life-changing experience. Although I had very little knowledge of the cases, I saw the assignment as an opportunity to help science find plausible answers to the questions that paranormal researchers had been seeking. I had shown up for my first-day-interview all dressed up to leave a perfect first impression, just in case my stellar Quantico grades and impeccable track record with the Bureau were not sufficient. It was implied that I was supposed to debunk "Agent Fox Mulder's" theories, something that I fundamentally disagreed with on a professional level, without ever having met him. What I did know was that his profiling skills were unparalleled and that he had a reputation of challenging the status quo. Most of the people whom I worked with at the FBI did not know this about me, but I still carried some of the teenage rebel that that snuck out to secretly smoked a cigarette hidden in me, which made me even more drawn to Mulder and this new path.

Although he was not traditionally my type, Mulder soon won me over with his boundless enthusiasm, His boyish charm was undeniable. It was refreshing to meet someone who was so passionate about his work without any second thought about how the cases he worked on would help him climb the career ladder. He was funny and witty, but also raw and honest, something that I discovered on our first case in Oregon. During a power outage at night, I rushed to his motel room to have him verify that the dots on my back where **not** the same marks we had found on the alleged abduction victims. Personal space has always been important to me, and I am not the type to expose myself to a man whom I barely know in underwear, but I knew that I was safe with Mulder and that I could trust him not to take my visit in a bathrobe and underwear the wrong way. I was so relieved when he reassured me that all I had were mosquito bites. I just couldn't help but fall into his arms, a big sigh exiting my body. That night brought us much closer together, as I listened to him telling me the story of his sister's abduction.

No matter how vulgar some of the jokes were that Mulder made, they never came off as cocky in that frat-boy-kind-of-way that I had become so accustomed to when working with a lot of young male agents. He was always very playful and sometimes cheerfully self-deprecating. When other agents puffed out their chests and expected any woman to faint at the sight of their slick suits, guns, and badges, Mulder was just himself, and so much more charismatic than they could ever dream of being. God, those smirks of his made me melt into a puddle of warm fuzziness. Who would have known that a man with the energy of a puppy who wore his heart on his sleeve could be so damn attractive? He completely broke my tradition of falling for the established traditional type. In addition to being devilishly handsome, Mulder was so much smarter than he led on to be. He liked to pretend that he was just the dummy that the FBI kept in its basement with me, his overly smart partner, assigned to babysit him, but I could tell that, no matter how technical my occasional monologues about the scientific specifics of a case would get, I always had his full attention, and he understood exactly what I was talking about. I didn't let his dreamy-eyed gazes at me fool me. I like to wear form-fitting clothes and wear subtle, professional make-up. I know what effect I have on men, but I have never used my looks as a means to an end, especially not as a career boost. Nonetheless, over the years, I've started to test the waters a bit with Mulder, seeing whether he would respond to a lower-cut blouse or a slightly tighter skirt. It was a way of wordless flirting without ever being overtly suggestive. A few times, I caught him checking me out when he thought I wasn't looking, just like I have taken in his appearance many times when he was distracted.

He is just so perfect on so many levels. As crazy as it sounds, I would marry Mulder in a heartbeat, even though we have never been together, let alone kissed. I just know that it would work. All the Whys and Hows never bothered me with him. Our connection is one of the few things that I can accept based on faith without needing hard facts. I had seen Mulder interact with children before, but the first time it really hit me how good of a father he would be and how I would want him to be the father of my children was when we found Emily. I didn't have the courage to make the first step towards a relationship by asking him whether he wanted to raise Emily with me. Things happened so fast. One minute I was a mother, the next, Emily was gone forever. I try not to think about the sad events that we went through together, all the loss and struggles. I aim to focus on the moments when the light shone through, our hugs and smiles in the dark. Him cracking corny jokes to cheer me up, me occasionally indulging him by retorting, our banter going back and forth little a tennis match. We were friends with the benefits of embraces that lasted a little too long and kisses on the forehead that were usually only reserved for long-time married couples. Not usually one for displays of affection, I wanted to live in his arms, breathe in his scent...

Right as I am about to drop my robe and dip my toe into the steaming warm water, I hear a sound. Wait a minute! Is that my phone ringing in the living room?


	2. Chapter 2

The phone rings. It’s an unknown caller.

"Hey!" The familiar voice on the other end sounds like his usual excited self, no trace of sadness. Could it be that Mulder has already moved on? The pace of my heart quickens.

"How are you? How has life been treating you?" Mulder continues, barely stopping to take a breath.

Before I can open my mouth to reply, he's already on to the next sentence: "Listen, I am working on this case right now, and I need someone to take a look at a corpse."

"Mulder, why don't you ask someone up there in DC?" I am more than just slightly hurt by his lack of inquiry into my well-being.

He pauses, then hesitantly continues: "They only have one pathologist working here, and he's sick with the flu right now."

I butt in, "Mulder, it's summer. How could he have the flu, and why is there only one pathologist working in the first place? Are we talking about the same office? This is still DC, right?"

He completely ignores my comment: "This is **not** an X-File. Remember, I don't work on the X-Files anymore. Didn't you say that you were going on vacation, soon? We could hang out like in the good old days, catch up on how the married life is going, how the kids are doing..."

I start, "I can..." He's quick, too quick, again, "Monday, you say? Great! I'll pick you up at the airport. Give me a call when you get here."

I am positively exasperated at this point. "Mulder, it's THURS...!" I start to exclaim, but he's already hang up.

Fuming, I try to decipher the conversation. He doesn't actually need me for feedback. He has plenty of other pathologists to fall back on. The more I think about it, one of the reasons why I got upset was because he didn't even use my name. Mulder can gloss over formalities when he gets carried away with a case, but he is rarely inconsiderate or rude, at least not towards me. Is this an X-File after all? Does he just want to see me? I continue to ponder, as I replace the phone and walk back towards the bathroom, where my warm tub was still waiting for me.


	3. Chapter 3

I felt pretty sly about my plan. Just in case someone was listening in on our conversation, or at least on my part of it, I had made sure to not use Scully's name and to be as casual about our meeting as possible. I've barely been able to sleep, ever since I came up with a way on how I could get Dana to come visit me, possibly work with me as a consultant, off the books, without anyone getting in our way. I am walking a thin line between what we can get away with and what could get us fired, that is, if we get caught. No one can get me in trouble for meeting with a former partner as a casual get-together that may or may not lead to some consulting on a case on the side...right? Admittedly, I've never been very suave when it comes to navigating policies, mostly because I never cared enough to bother abiding by them. It is true that I want Scully to take another look at the medical reports for the bodies that are related to my case, and that the word 'paranormal' has crossed my mind, but not in the obvious sense. It would be better to explain the case to her in person.

I can't deny that I was hurt by our quick goodbye and the fact that I never received a single call from Dana the past few weeks. If I didn't know about our special connection, I would have thought that she had chosen to erase me from her life. I hope that she knows that I fought hard to get the X-Files back or to at least have her assigned back to me. Was I not clear enough? Self-doubt creeps in. I always thought that I was very open about my feelings and that she could read me like a book, but maybe I have relied too much on her familiarity with me and have started to undercommunicate. Now that I am here at the airport, and I am going to have her back within the next few minutes, I am getting increasingly nervous. Thoughts are racing through my head. Did she understand my message? She sounded upset, but she confirmed that she was going to come see me. I trusted her to read between the lines and to understand that I needed her with me, not just professionally, but also as a person.

More and more people are exiting, but still no sight of Dana. Finally, I spot her, her blazing red hair illuminated by the afternoon sun coming through the large terminal windows, a fire against the dull gray of the rest of the world. Her beauty is as radiant as ever, and I catch myself holding my breath. Her face has been with me every second of the day and in every one of my dreams, but the memory is no match to reality. She's wearing a tight Maine v-neck that I've never seen before, her blue jeans hugging her body in all the right places. This is so much better than her usual suits. My heart quickens its pace, and my stomach is filled with butterflies. It's as if I am seeing her for the first time, but with the benefit of already knowing the beauty of her mind, as well. I am spellbound, unable to move or to control my expression. Once I break my trance, a smile spreads across my face, and I open my arms to greet her. She doesn't look quite as excited to see me, but there is still a smile playing around the corners of her mouth and a beaming in her eyes. I can see her pace quicken ever-so-slightly. First she is feet away, then inches, then she is finally back in my arms. "Hi," is all I manage to mumble into her hair, as we share a hug that seems to last an eternity and at the same time doesn't last nearly long enough. "How was your flight?" She moves away slightly, just enough to be able to look up at me. "Okay, I guess." She still seems on guard, although I felt her body relax a little during our hug. "Is this everything?" I point to her wheeled suitcase, which is small enough to be hand luggage. She nods. Maybe she's just exhausted. My hand on the small of her back, we move towards the moving walkway. Our pace is still in sync from all those years of working together, me naturally making my steps shorter, and her lengthening her strides to match mine. I can't stop looking at her, but she is mostly looking ahead, with only some brief half-smiling side glances at me. I am not sure how to break the silence. "Are you hungry? I was thinking we could have dinner at my place." "Sure," she says, as we walk towards the garage. I can't take it anymore. We've had our little arguments over the years, but she's never given me the cold shoulder like she is now. I burst out, "Scully, did I do something wrong?" Her pace slows, as she shakes her head. "No, Mulder. I just don't know what to say. We have been sep..." She swallows and continues with her head bowed down, as we approach my car. "We haven't seen each other for a month, and you suddenly give me this mysterious phone call, acting like everything's all fine and dandy. I am just really confused about what's going on." He stops and turns around to face me. "I'll explain everything, I promise. Let's go to my apartment first. You should probably get some rest."


	4. Chapter 4

I am an expert at building a fortress around my feelings, but downplaying the rush I felt as soon as I saw Mulder again has been excruciating. I am not mad at him for being vague anymore. I can tell how happy he is to see me, so any concerns about him being unaffected by our separation have vanished. I am still waiting for him to fill me in on his little secret before I let down my walls completely. Something else is weighing heavy on my heart that needs to be addressed, as well. Thankfully, despite the short notice, it didn’t take much convincing when I stepped into the Assistant Director's office and sheepishly asked to get all of next week of. Thankfully, my workaholic ways over the past few weeks hadn't gone unnoticed, and it was almost too easy for me to request a week off, despite just having been transferred. I had accumulated 4 weeks that had to be used before the end of the year, anyway, all thanks to my work-obsessed former partner, plus I had done the work of 8 weeks in 4. The AD showed full sympathy for my explanation that I hadn't had time to settle into my new place, and that it was time for me to finally tackle the unboxing of my belongings. He told me not to worry about the usual minimum two weeks' notice. It almost all worked out a little to well. Hopefully, I was wrong, and this was just my paranoia from years of working with Mulder catching up to me.

Unfortunately, my attempts during the three-hour flight at bracing myself for seeing Mulder again were less successful. I step out of the gate, and there he is. He is towering over the rest of the waiting crowd with his eyes straight in the direction of the gate. Instead of his standard full business attire, he is wearing a slim-fitting heather gray T-shirt, dark jeans, and a black leather jacket, a look that makes me weak in the knees, the look that brings back memories from that day in the hallway. Dammit, Mulder! Why did you have to choose my favorite outfit after I haven’t seen you in a month? I pray that he can’t see my face flush from where he is standing. I need to keep my cool. At least, I have confirmation that it is unlikely that he would drag me to the office, the way he is dressed. Of course, my other resolution, avoiding body contact at all costs, is also thrown to the wind, when he greets me with a long hug.

Now, here I am again, in this all-too-familiar Alexandria apartment, sitting on Mulder's couch, which also serves as his bed. I wonder if he even has a bedroom. We've just finished our Chinese food, and are sipping on red wine, poured in red paper cups. I'm not surprised that Mulder's kitchen inventory hasn't changed much. All of this feels too comfortable. If there wasn't still that dull pain of being without him, it could almost feel as if I had never been forced to leave. Right now, Mulder is animatedly talking about the case that he was referring to over the phone. I am listening, but I am mildly distracted by the way his shirt is showing off his athletic chest and arms. "This man that I am studying, seems to target victims based on certain behaviors that they exhibit that he doesn't trust. It seems to have something to do with their brain, as that is the focus of his obsession." "What makes you think that?" I ask. "All victims have been decapitated in one way or another. I am trying to figure out what their brains have in common. The medical examiner that had a look at the corpses so far could not find a connection, but I know that there has to be something here." I'm out of practice when it comes to not getting distracted by his lips. By this point, he must have noticed how much I'm starring at his mouth when he's talking. The room seems to be spinning at the same speed that my heart is beating, which is unreasonably fast. "If we can't find a common thread in the brain of the victims, the severing or opening of the skull may just be a symbol of the perpetrator's own 'losing his head', but I need to know for sure. I am going out on a limb here, but I have a strong hunch that all his victims were exhibiting behaviors that caused him extreme distress. Maybe they thought that they experienced things that could be considered paranormal. We don't have a lot of information on them, as most of them could not be identified. He selected his prey from outcasts with no social ties. This is where you come in. I know that I can't utter the words 'paranormal' without repercussions, even though I am certain that this is not a paranormal case.” He briefly pauses to take a sip from his cup, then continues, “I would really appreciate it if you could take a second look at the findings and give me your input. You don't need to actually look at the corpses, and, with your trained eye, it really shouldn't take you long You don't have to go over anything before tomorrow. I want you to actually have the vacation that you asked for. I know you would have never taken it, had I not called you. Take it as a gift from me. Pretty please?" He puts on his best puppy dog face. Now it's his hazel eyes that I can't look away from.

I prop my head up on my my elbow, as I snuggle further into the couch, holding the cup of red wine in my other hand. I am starting to feel mellow all over, and I feel the urge to discuss something entirely different. Despite not hearing any slur in my voice, I'm not sure if it is the wine talking when I ask into the brief silence, "Mulder, what are we doing here?" Mulder raises his eyebrows. "What do you mean?" I take a deep breath and respond, "If you want me to stay, I'll stay, but don't ask me to travel up here under the pretense of just wanting a second opinion. I need to know where you stand, where **we** stand." I can't believe that I just said that. "Because... I can't do this anymore." Mulder has gone still, his unblinking gaze fixed on me, confusion and fear written all over his face. I quickly proceed: "I can't be separated from you. We trust each other with our lives. Why can't we be honest about our feelings?" With that last sentence, I down all of the remaining wine in one large gulp. I feel dizzy, so I close my eyes for a brief second. Before even opening them, I can sense that Mulder has covered the distance between us. Instead of sitting across from me, he is now on my side of the couch, his face, glowing in the light from the adjacent aquarium, just inches from mine. His cologne is intoxicating. This time, I know that the dizzy spell isn't just coming from the wine. He looks positively gorgeous in the fading light. His soft murmur wraps around me like a warm blanket, as his pained eyes lock with mine. "Scully, I didn't mean to leave you in the dark about my feelings. I just don't want to lose you as my soulmate by saying the wrong thing." He picks up a strand of hair that has fallen into my face and gently tucks it behind my ear. "But if you want to hear the truth, here it is.” I am terrified of what he might say next. “I love you more than anything or anyone, more than life itself. I can't lose you again, Dana. The last few weeks have been hell, and all I've been doing is plot a way to get you back to me. It was even worse than I could have ever imagined." A tear rolls down his slightly stubbly cheek. "I'm so sorry if this was inappropriate to say, but please, PLEASE, I beg of you. Don't abandon me. Don't abandon us!" The back of his hand gently caresses my cheek, as another tear runs down his face. I am speechless, not having expected such candor. To finally have confirmation that he feels like I do makes my head spin even more. All I can mutter is a croaked, "Mulder, I..." He gingerly presses his index finger on my lips. "Shh. Fox, not Mulder." Before my mind and my heart can comprehend what is happening, he guides my face towards his. Our lips brush in the most delicate way before I give in to his tender advances and close my mouth on his. Our kiss is gentle, yet passionate. It is a direct reflection of the love that we feel for each other, without suggesting or denying anything beyond that. It is an affirmation of our deep bond and doesn't imply that we could ever have just been involved casually. We are both too hurt right now to have any other intentions. It is everything I've ever wanted and more, sending warm shivers down my spine. We both needed an answer, and we heard it loud and clear, reverberating through our bodies.

When our lips part, I am sobbing uncontrollably. This is so unlike me, breaking down into a crying mess. I try to explain what has been going through my head, but whenever I open my mouth, the tears are back, and my words become unintelligible. Pull yourself together, Dana! "That bad, huh?" Fox smirks, one hand on my right arm. He actually manages to make me chuckle, and my voice seems to return. "No, of course not." He is gently brushing away my tears with his fingers. "It was actually quite magical," I say under my breath, my eyes cast down. What an understatement! I feel like a school girl after her first kiss, and, in a way, it was my first kiss, at least of this emotional intensity. "Good, because there's many more where that came from," Fox teases. I exhale deeply, then tackle the inevitable questions: "So, what's next? How do we get the powers that be to assign us back together or at least allow us to work in the same city?" Fox looks pensive. Just as I open my mouth to break the silence, he says, "Well, there is one thing that we could do, but it's a little unconventional." "Fox, our whole relationship has been the very definition of unconventional. What do you have in mind?" He pauses again, then fixes his eyes on the floor, as he murmurs, "Well, we could...you know...get married." Unable to maintain my composure, I feel my jaw drop. Did he just say what I think he said? Despite his bashfulness, Mulder glances up to see why I haven't said anything. "It was just an idea," he shrugs, but I can see in his eyes that he is not suggesting this casually. This is something that he has been mulling over for some time. "Are you proposing to me, Fox?" He raises his eyebrows and shrugs again. He knows that I am still waiting for a response, so he says, "Yes, Dana, in fact, I do want marry you. But it's not just an easy way out of us being forced apart, I do want you to be the person who I spend the rest of my life with. I've been thinking about this for years now, and I've never been more sure than the past few weeks. So, Dana, here it is." He clears his throat. "Dana Katherine Scully, do you want to marry me?" His green-brown eyes glimmer with hope. He's his usual infinitely adorable self. The thing is that, as baffled as I was by his question, I have been thinking about it too, many many times. I surprise myself with how eager I am to confess, shooting out my answer. "Yes, yes, I do." Before I can have second thoughts and reconsider the implications of it all, the truth is out. For the fraction of a second, I think of Melissa and how she would have loved this new, irrational Dana. Fox must have seen my bittersweet smile because he is asking me if I'm okay. "Yeah," I respond. "I was just thinking about my sister Melissa, and how she would have felt about our engagement. She really took a liking to you, you know." Fox smiles. "She did? She seemed to be scolding me for not spending enough time at your side." "That sounds like her. She was always very protective of me, her younger sister. I don't remember most of what happened while I was unconscious, but I could feel that you were always there, waiting for me to wake up." He takes both of my hands in his. "I'll never leave your side, Dana. That's not a promise, that's a guarantee."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that it would be fine for the story to end here, but let me know if you want to see a sequel.


End file.
